Trials and Tribulations
by scarlett.haiku
Summary: Cameron is brutally attacked, and House realizes that he must be there for her. Please read and review. Rape is discussed, but actual attack is not shown. Rated M for subject matter.
1. Chapter 1

As Allison was walking towards the main entrance of the hospital, she paused for a moment, enjoying the cool morning air on her face. She had always loved mornings. You start your day anew, with fresh intentions and agendas. That was always such a peaceful thought to her, knowing that each day was a new beginning.

Allison picked up her pace, wanting to be the first in the office so that she could go through House's mail without interruption for at least thirty minutes. Also, she had just bought some new peachberry tea that she was sure everyone would enjoy. As she walked through the main lobby, she immediately spotted Barbara, the receptionist.

"Good morning, Barbara. Any messages for Diagnostics?" Allison asked as she walked over to the reception desk.

Barbara looked up from her paperwork and smiled. "No, unless you wanted to hear the newest complaint filed against Dr. House." Barbara paused, putting down her pen, and looking over at Dr. Cuddy's office added, "And even if you don't want to hear about it, I'm pretty sure you will. Dr. Cuddy actually came in early today, and judging from her mood, I'd bet she's pretty pissed off about something."

Allison stole a look over at the Dean of Medicine's office, and agreed with Barbara. Something was definitely going to be said today if the look on Cuddy's face while talking on the phone was any indicator.

"Thanks for the warning, Barbara", Allison said. She turned around and was just about to start for the elevators across the lobby until Barbara's voice stopped her.

"Oh, Dr. Cameron! There's one more thing!"

Allison swiveled on her heel and looked inquiringly at Barbara. "Yes?" she asked politely.

Barbara looked around them, and waved for Allison to come closer. Allison walked over to Barbara with a questioning look.

"Dr. Cuddy has asked that all female personnel be escorted to and from their cars after dark now. I guess last week three women were…assaulted. And they all happened within a three mile radius around the hospital." Barbara looked at Allison and shook her head. "It's just scary. But now the new protocol is for all the women to either be escorted to their cars or travel in a group." She paused, giving Cameron a thoughtful look. "And I believe you need to be extra-cautious, seeing as how you're a young, good looking girl. So you don't need to be shy about asking for an escort. Any self respecting man will be glad to walk you to your car."

Allison nodded her head and smiled reassuringly to Barbara and said, "I'll be sure to do just that, no worries."

Allison turned and headed to the elevators. As she got on and selected the appropriate floor, she felt herself shiver. She usually felt relatively safe, even after dark, but this was the first time she had heard about the attacks. As she got off the elevator and started walking to the department, she told herself to calm down. After all, she thought as she walked into the office, the odds that she would be assaulted were actually miniscule. She always took the necessary precautions: She always had her keys out when walking, with her car key between her thumb and index finger, ready to gouge an eye; she never parked by a van; and she always parked under a street light.

Allison turned on the light as she entered the department, satisfied that she was the first to arrive that day. She placed her briefcase by the desk, and walked toward the kitchenette.

As Allison was readying her tea, she heard the door open.

"You're here early," a voice said behind her.

Allison turned and smiled. "The same could be said of you. Good morning, House. Care for some tea?" She tried not to stare, as his eyes seemed much bluer this morning, thanks to his French blue button down.

House walked closer to her and sniffed at the coffee cup her tea was steeping in. Immediately, his nose wrinkled. "What's up with your girly stuff? I don't want tea that smells like a girl; I want something that's supposed to wake me up." He straightened up and looked down at her. "Coffee would suffice. Strong and full bodied, like how I like my women."

Allison rolled her eyes and turned to the coffee machine. "Of course, right away." She placed her tea on the counter and started filling the coffee pot with water. As she went back to get the coffee grounds, she noticed her tea was gone. She looked up with a confused look on her face, and saw that House was sipping from it.

"Mmmm. Just how I like my women," he said when he had swallowed, "sweet and hot." He smiled at Allison. "Thanks for the tea."

"Well, you could have just asked for it, House. There's no reason why you needed to…to steal my tea!" Allison said with a disgruntled look on her face. She was really looking forward to that tea, dammit! She turned around and finished putting the grounds in the filter and turned the machine on, letting the coffee perk.

She backed up, half way turning around, when she bumped into something, and felt hot liquid splash over the front of her blouse. She gasped from shock and pain as the tea ran down her chest.

"Woops! Next time, you should watch where you're going. Now you're going to have to make me more tea." House looked at her smugly, and then looked to see where the tea had stained her top. It was a very pretty top, he had to admit.

Allison looked at him in shock, her mouth open. She turned around and grabbed paper towels and began dabbing her new shirt. "If this stains, you're buying me a new one," she muttered to House, who was still staring. She looked up when he gave no answer. "And you can stop staring," she cried indignantly, feeling herself blush.

House let his gaze linger for a few more seconds, and then met her frustrated eyes. "Calm down, Dr. Cameron. And I get to pick out the new shirt. Something that Cuddy would wear. Something tight and that shows lots of cleavage." He smiled at her deepening blush, knowing she was feeling more and more self-conscious.

Allison stopped dabbing her shirt and walked over to her lab coat, shrugging it on. She started buttoning the first few buttons, feeling House's eyes on her. He always made her feel so much more…aware. And she knew that he was trying to make her uncomfortable.

"No need for a new shirt." She smiled as she turned around to face him. "I'll have your tea ready in a few moments." She walked back to the counter and started making the tea. She could still feel his presence behind her, looking at her. "I'll bring it into your office when it's ready," she said over her shoulder.

House looked at the back of her neck thoughtfully, wondering if it was as soft as it looked. Wondering what she would do if he happened to step up behind her, kiss the back of her neck, the side of her neck, make his way down to her—

"Good morning," Foreman said as he entered the office.

House snapped out of his reverie, turning to Foreman. He didn't know if he was thankful or pissed that his daydream had just been interrupted.

"Good morning. Where's Chase this lovely morn?"

Foreman paused while placing his briefcase on the floor, glancing at House. "I'm not sure. But he's going to be disappointed when he hears that he missed one of your rare good moods."

House smirked and rolled his eyes. "Oh, but I'm always in a good mood. Just ask Cameron. I just offered to buy her a new shirt."

Allison turned to look at Foreman and shook her head. She handed House a coffee cup and then took hers and sat at the table. "Any new cases?" she asked hopefully. She didn't like sitting around here doing nothing, only able to think about the man who was in the other room playing on his Gameboy or whatever else he liked to do alone.

Foreman shook his head as he headed for a cup of coffee. "None that I know of. Which means either we'll get to play House in the clinic, or go look for a case in the ER."

At that moment, Chase walked into the office. He immediately made a beeline for the coffee machine, without as much as a word to anyone in the room. House leaned on his cane, following Chase with his eyes, and then looked at Foreman and Cameron.

"Does anybody else think it odd that all three of you are here thirty minutes early?" He looked at their puzzled faces, and continued. "I mean, I expect it of Cameron, seeing as how she has no social life. But Foreman, I'm sure you were out late last night, showing young hoodlums how to steal a car. And Chase," he continued, turning to the young Aussie, "I'm sure you are always busy pleasing the ladies, right?" He mockingly winced at the glare he received from Chase. "But I guess not last night, huh?"

Foreman cleared his throat, hoping to draw attention from Chase. "I'm going to the clinic. That is," he added, pausing to look at House with a pointed look, "if you don't have anything pressing to discuss."

House gave Foreman an exasperated look. "Fine, fine. I'll stop meddling in Chase's love life, interesting as it may be." Foreman started to get up, but House stopped him. "I do have one thing to mention." He walked over to his desk and grabbed a sheet of paper that he had apparently left there earlier.

He walked back to the table and gestured for Chase to take a seat. Chase glowered moodily and sat down. House looked back at the paper, and started to read aloud. "To all hospital employees." House paused and cleared his throat. "As all may know, there has been a recent rise in crime in the area. As a precaution, it is now hospital policy that all female personnel be walked to and from their cars before and after all shifts. A group of three or more will not require an escort, but are asked to walk as a group, not leaving anyone alone. If you need an escort, please either ask a fellow male employee or call security and request one. All department heads are to ensure this new policy is heeded to its fullest degree."

House looked up from the paper and zeroed in on Allison. "As the head of Diagnostics, it is my duty to make sure you are appropriately escorted." Allison squirmed uncomfortably, embarrassed by the attention. House continued, "But seeing as how I'm a cripple, I am putting the actual escorting responsibility on Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. Or otherwise known as Foreman and Chase." He grinned at their annoyed expressions. "So until otherwise notified, you are to be escorted by your choice of either Foreman or Chase, and you are to notify me about who is escorting you."

Allison nodded her head, uncomfortable. "Yes, of course."

House eyed her for a moment. "I mean it, Dr. Cameron. It's no joking matter, and I expect you to follow the new protocol." He turned to Foreman and Chase. "And it's your responsibility also now." He stared at all three to make sure they got the point, and then dismissed them. "Now you can go find a case or do whatever you do best." He turned and walked into his office, shutting the door.

All three doctors sat at the table, surprised at their employer's forcefulness in this matter. Usually House was a rule breaker, but apparently not with this one.

Allison froze when both Foreman and Chase stared at her. "What?"

Foreman was the first to speak. "We need your willingness in this, you know. You actually need to tell us when you're leaving and letting us take you. And that may mean that you might have to wait a minute while we're finishing something up before we can walk you to your car."

Chase nodded. "Or else we'll catch hell from House." He paused, and then added as a second thought, "And safety first."

Allison cringed inwardly, feeling uncomfortable with all of this attention. "I get it, you guys. I'll rush to your side when I need to be walked to my car." She got up, but was stopped by Foreman's hand on her wrist. She looked at him questioningly, and he added with feeling, "I mean it. And not just because House said so. But because there's an actual rapist out there."

Allison nodded, and smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Foreman. Don't worry; I'll let you know when I'm heading out."

Foreman nodded his head and got up from his seat. "I'm off to the clinic. Chase, want to join me?"

Chase got up, and started following Foreman. He turned to Allison. "Clinic is better than mail duty," and he was gone with a smile.

Allison smiled back, but the smile slowly faded as he walked out the door. She turned to the pile of mail and started going through it, sorting it out by urgency and subject. For the second time that day, she had a weird feeling about this new protocol. She didn't want to live her life, jumping at shadows. But she also didn't want to throw caution in the wind.

As she was writing to decline an invitation that had been sent to House an hour later, she finally realized why she was bothered by this new development. She hated that she wasn't in control. She hated that she had to rely solely on male support because she was a female, and therefore apparently weak. She hated that in order to be safe, she had to act the part of a damsel in distress while a man came and rescued her.

As Allison got more and more worked up, the more forceful she was with the letter opener. 'Sure,' she thought angrily as she opened another invitation, 'I am a qualified, highly educated doctor who has saved lives, but I can't even walk to my own car! I have to ask a man to walk me to my car, or else I'm breaking protocol! It's not like I can't protect myself!' She threw the invite into the decline pile with more force than necessary. 'I have a can of Mace, for heaven's sake! I'm not totally helpless!'

She picked up another letter, and stabbed it with the letter opener, and just as she was ripping the envelope open, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Allison jumped, causing her to slice her finger with the serrated edge of the letter opener. "Ow!"

House pulled back his hand, and stared at the growing line of blood on her finger. He grabbed a tissue and handed it to Allison. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Allison took the tissue and applied it to her hand. "It's fine," she muttered. She got up from her seat and walked to the sink, where they kept a first aid kit. "Did you need anything?" she asked over her shoulder.

House watched her progress to the sink and leaned on his cane. Even when flustered and apparently upset about something, Cameron was always as polite as can be. "I was asking you if you knew where my Gameboy was, but you weren't listening to me."

Allison paused in her application of the band aid and glanced up at House. "Oh, sorry, my mind was somewhere else." She placed the band aid on her finger and pressed on it, making sure it was sealed. She only noticed belatedly that the band aids were Disney Princesses, and she had just chosen a Jasmine one. She smiled faintly as she threw away the wrapper, and went back to the desk.

"I haven't seen it, sorry. But I'll let you know as soon as possible if I happen to stumble upon it," she said, as though they were discussing something that was actually important.

House detected the undercurrent of sarcasm, but decided to let it go. After all, he had just caused her to cut herself. "Thanks so much," he said brightly with sincere sarcasm.

Allison nodded, going back to the mail. She assumed that House had gone back to his office, but became aware that he hadn't when he walked back into her field of vision and sat down across from her. She paused, giving him an inquisitive glance.

He stared at her thoughtfully for a few seconds and took a deep breath. "I know why you're so worked up."

Allison sat up in her chair, putting down some envelopes. "Really?" she asked slowly.

House nodded. "You hate that you have to rely on somebody else so that you're safe." He smiled in triumph when she gave him a shocked look that told him she was surprised by what he said. Surprised, and shocked that he knew what had made her upset. "You agree readily that you are the bleeding heart of Plainsboro, but you never let anyone get that confused with weakness. In fact, you always try to make it a point that you can take care of yourself. And now you absolutely despise it that you need, no, are _required_, to rely on somebody else." House sat back in his chair, pleased with himself. He twirled his cane while waiting for her response.

Allison stared at him, her breath caught in her throat. He knew her better than she knew herself! She let her breath out, not realizing that she had been holding it. She slowly nodded her head. "You're right," she admitted simply. She thought of her next words wisely. "I've always taken care of myself. I haven't needed anybody else to take care of me, or have had any reason for anybody to take care of me. In fact," she added as she took a deep breath and looked down at the table, "I've always been the one taking care, not the one being taken cared of." She slowly looked back up at House.

House stared at her hard, not saying a word. 'So strong,' he thought, 'but so fragile.' He sighed, feeling suddenly worn out. How he wished that he could be one of those who were cared for by Allison Cameron. How wonderful that would feel.

But he didn't say that. Instead, he said, "You know it's not that you're weak. It's actually for our own peace of mind, knowing that you're making it to your car safely. And," he paused, looking slightly thoughtful, "I hope you also realize that I hardly ever enforce any of those worthless protocols that Cuddy is always inventing. But this one I actually feel is important. Because it involves you directly. And your safety. And I am not going to deal with that lightly."

Allison nodded, touched. "I understand," she said simply.

House eyed her for another few moments, and then got up. "Let me know if you see my Gameboy." And he was gone, back into his office.

Allison reflected over House's words, moved by them. She smiled to herself, warmed by his concern. As she continued looking sorting through the mail, it occurred to her. House cared. About her.

********************************************************************

Fourteen hours later, Allison was calling security. She needed an escort.

Not long after House had left her sorting the mail, Foreman and Chase had come back from the ER with a case involving a 32-year-old man who had pleural effusions, tachycardia, and hemoptysis. The interesting thing was that the man was coughing up blood, but they couldn't find any reason why. They had performed a bronchoscopy, and had found no visible cause for his hemoptysis. Chase, Foreman and Cameron drew straws so see which one had to stay overnight, and poor Foreman had picked the short straw.

But while Allison was in the locker room, Chase had left without so much as waiting to ask if he could escort her to her car. Allison could tell that Foreman was genuinely upset about it, but she had acted like it was no big deal. After all, she could always call security.

And that was what she was doing now. Calling security. For the sixth time. Each time, they said they would have someone meet her at the entrance, but in the last thirty minutes, no one had shown up.

As Allison listened to the incessant ringing on the other end, she became exasperated. She hung up the phone, shaking her head. If security couldn't send anybody to escort her, then that was fine. She could at least walk by herself just this once. After all, she reasoned as she picked up her briefcase, she had had a rough day. She didn't feel like waiting another thirty minutes for security to come, while she could have already been driving home in that time.

Allison went through the front doors, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the night. She paused, suddenly deciding to get out her can of Mace. Just in case, she told herself. She dug through her purse, and finally found it. She shook her head, annoyed that she was letting herself get so worked up about all of this.

Allison started walking purposefully to the parking lot, making sure she was underneath the safety of the lights at all times. As she looked up, she noticed surveillance cameras along the building. 'At least they would catch it on camera if something were to happen,' she thought.

She veered onto a smaller sidewalk, heading to her car. She picked up her pace, hearing her heels clicking against the cement. Suddenly, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck go straight up. She started walking even faster, not looking behind her, half afraid of what she would see. She spotted her car about twenty feet away and felt herself become relieved. She had her keys in her hand, and pressed the unlock button on her keyless pad. As she walked up to her car, she opened the back passenger door and placed her briefcase on the seat. As she closed the door, that's when the man suddenly knocked himself into her, slamming her into the car.

Allison immediately fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of her. She grasped blindly for her Mace, her mind blank. She turned her head, looking for the Mace, but couldn't find it. She saw black boots by her feet, and her eyes traveled up, revealing a solid looking man dressed in all black with a ski mask on.

Still not able to breath, she did the only thing she could think of. She started crawling under her car, hoping he couldn't catch her. She heard a weird mewling sound, and then realized that it was coming from her lips. She scraped her fingernails against the pavement, trying to get leverage to pull herself underneath the car. She could feel bits of gravel digging underneath her nails, but she ignored the pain. Ignored the pain when she felt her right index nail splitting to the quick. Ignored the pain every time she breathed in and out, knowing she probably broke a couple of ribs.

She was almost under the car when she felt his hands on her feet. She kicked wildly, trying to make him unhand her. Then she heard him laughing, and she knew she was going to lose. He was laughing at her feeble attempts of freedom. She was disoriented and weak, unable to fight him off. She realized this in her rational mind, but she still fought.

He jerked her out from underneath the car, breaking all of her nails while she was gripping onto the pavement. She hoarsely moaned, still not able to take a deep enough breath to actually scream. He sat on the middle of her back, setting off agony in her chest. She couldn't breath! He laughed to himself, and lessened the weight, allowing her to take a miniscule breath.

Allison grabbed onto the car, looking for any way of escape, any kind of leverage. She left four trails of blood when her hand slipped off the car.

The man laughed again, apparently enjoying how much she was fighting. He grabbed her wrists and tied them above her head. He then took a gag and placed it in her mouth, tying a cloth around her mouth to keep it in place. He flipped her onto her back. She was now face to face with him.

Allison tried to buck him off her, kicking her legs wildly. She became a wild woman, doing all she could think of to get him off of her.

The man seemed amused by her efforts. As if by an after thought, he grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the pavement.

Allison saw stars. She saw pain. But even through this, she tried to get him off her. But her efforts were weak.

The man took off her shoes, throwing them away from her. He then tied her ankles together. He sat up, looking at the woman he was going to take. He smiled to himself. He was pleased with what he had found this time.

He hurriedly took out his knife, smiling at her fear when she saw the gleam of the blade. He started slicing off her clothes, starting with her top and then began on her pants. When he was through, he bent over her and picked her up, placing her into the backseat of the car next to hers. He climbed into the driver's seat, starting the car. He looked back into the backseat at the woman, and smiled. This was going to be fun.

********************************************************************

Foreman was exhausted. He shook his head, trying to clear it while he was finishing some dictation he was trying to catch up on.

So far, the patient was stable. But he had new symptoms: Emesis and atrial fibrillation.

Foreman looked up when a security guard walked into the room. "May I help you?"

The young man looked at him, clearly nervous. "Yes, I was supposed to escort a Dr. Cameron to her car. Is she still here?"

Foreman looked at him. "No," he said slowly. "She left about an hour ago." He picked up the phone, and dialed Cameron's number. It went to voicemail. "Cameron, it's Foreman. Let me know when you get home, okay?"

Foreman put the phone down and looked at the guard. "What time did she call you to escort her?"

The man nervously wrung his hands. "About an hour ago. There was a mix up. Me and another guy thought the other one was going to go walk her to her car. We didn't figure out the mistake until just now."

Foreman stared hard at him. "I know where she parks. Let's go and make sure her car is gone, okay? If it is, then I'll keep calling her until she answers. If not, we're calling the police."

Foreman strode out of the room, and the guard followed him. When they reached the parking lot, Foreman saw Cameron's car. He started running towards it, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Once he got close enough, he saw her purse, keys, shoes and clothing on the ground.

"Call 911!" he called to the guard. The young man fumbled with his phone, immediately dialing numbers on his keypad. Foreman faintly heard him talking into it, and that was when he saw the blood on the driver's door. Four bloody streaks. Foreman whipped his head around, desperate to see something or someone.

"They're on their way," the guard said quietly while he looked at the items on the ground. Foreman flexed his jaw. 'They weren't going to be fast enough,' he thought.

He flipped open his phone and dialed the number of the person who needed to know. The phone rang, and then somebody picked up. "This had better be good," the voice grumpily muttered into the phone.

"She's gone," Foreman said into the phone. "Cameron is gone. Something has happened to her, House."

*********************************************************************

Allison shivered in the dark.

She was alone. He had finally left her alone. She felt the restraints biting into her skin every time she moved. Her whole body hurt. She felt tears gathering in her eyes, but tried to stop them. She was still gagged, and she couldn't breathe well if her nose was stuffed up from crying. She took deep breaths, ignoring the sharp pain in her sides from the broken ribs.

She had to stay focused. She had to get out of here in case he came back to kill her. Her wrists were tied together. He had nailed small metal tent posts into the ground, and then tied her wrists to one using fishing line, and then each of her ankles to one.

She wiggled her wrists, trying to loosen the post. She ignored the pain, wiggling more and more until she could feel the slick feeling of blood around her wrists. She kept wiggling, and finally she felt the post give a little. She doubled her efforts, moaning at the pain. She was out of breath, and sweating even though the temperature was only about 40 degrees. She took a moment to collect herself, and resumed her efforts. Finally, she felt it give even more. She gave one final shove, and cried out at the pain. But her actions were rewarded; she had finally loosened the pole.

She slowly brought her arms up over her head, and sat up. She immediately felt nauseous, and started scraping at the gag around her mouth. She felt the bile travel up her throat, and had just pulled the gag from her mouth when she started vomiting. She rolled to her hip and heaved for a few moments more, until there was nothing else in her stomach, and continued to heave even after that. The pain was blinding in her ribs, and she tried to squeeze her sides with arms to apply pressure to lessen the pain.

Allison shakily took a breath. She forced herself to get under control; she had to get out of there. She immediately bent forward to work her ankles out of the restraints. While she did this, she numbly realized that her wrists were deeply cut around where the fishing line had dug into her skin. She looked at her ankles, and realized they were also bloody. She tried scraping the fishing line off, but the slippery blood made the lines evasive.

She finally tore the tent poles out of the ground. She could worry about untying them later. Now, she had to move. She had to find safety.

She stood up slowly, not able to move fast. She almost fell over, she was so dizzy. 'Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it,' she told herself over and over. She looked around herself, knowing she was in an abandoned warehouse somewhere. She looked for an exit, and saw a sliver of light coming from a door.

She walked over slowly, trying her best to hide her nakedness with her hands. She reached the door, and tried to push it open. It slowly gave way, revealing early morning light. She stumbled out, falling to the ground. She scrambled back up, now running wildly, anywhere, for safety. She ignored her pain as she ran down the deserted street that was obviously used only for the surrounding warehouses. She looked wildly around, not seeing any movement. No sign of life.

Allison didn't know how long she ran. But she finally saw headlights coming from a different road. She slowed for a moment, and then started yelling. "Help! Help me!" Tears ran down her face as she waved her arms in the air.

The car neared her, and an elderly lady looked dumbstruck as she saw the naked young woman in the middle of the road. She stopped her car, and Allison ran toward it, trying to open the passenger door. She scrambled inside and turned to the woman.

"I need to go to the hospital," she said hoarsely. The woman looked at her, nodded dumbly, immediately turning around and sped as fast as she could to the nearest hospital. PPTH.

*****************************************************************

House paced around Cuddy's office while the police were interviewing the security guards, Foreman and Chase. He had already punched Chase as soon as he had walked into the door. Foreman had told him how he had abandoned Allison. And now Allison was gone.

"I'm telling you, we just got confused. I thought Bob was going to meet her at the door, and Bob thought that I was going to meet her. It was a simple mistake." The security guard was trying to explain to the police, and to Cuddy, why he hadn't escorted Cameron to her car.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Wilson ran in. "They found her. She's in the ER."

Everyone froze, and then all at once everyone went into action. House was the first to the door, making his way as fast as he could to the ER. Amazingly, he beat all the others.

He rounded into the unit, and immediately saw nurses and doctors around a bed. He advanced toward it, knowing it was Allison.

"You need to calm down, ma'am. Just take a deep breath," a doctor was telling her.

House rushed over, pushing somebody out of his way. He saw Allison then for the first time. Her face was bloody and bruised. She had been hit multiple times. She had raw, bloody spots in the corners of her mouth where the gag had been. Her body was covered with a sheet, but he could see where the bastard had tied her wrists. He could see how bloody they were. He numbly noted that her fingernail beds were bloodied, scraped raw with blood blisters forming.

He looked up at Allison's face, and their eyes met. She looked away from him, and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. She was sobbing, a deep, soul wrenching sob. It broke House's heart.

"I need 2 mg of Ativan, stat," the doctor ordered a nurse.

House worked his way up to her side. "Allison?" he asked softly. He laid his hand on her arm, and she jumped away. He quickly removed it, shaking his head. How stupid of him.

"Allison, don't worry. I'm here." He lowered his voice to a whisper, hoping only Allison could hear his voice. "Please, look at me."

Allison didn't move for a moment, and then slowly let her hands fall from her face. She tried to quiet her sobs, but she couldn't control them. She turned her head slowly, looking at House. He met her gaze solidly. She swallowed, trying to make herself calm down. "Do you want me to help you? Do you want me to be here?" he asked.

Tears ran down her cheeks unchecked. She slowly nodded her head. The nurse was then at her side, injecting her with the Ativan. "Don't leave me," she said thickly.

He slowly shook her head. "I won't leave you."

He stepped back as the nurses started taking her vitals. "Dr. Cameron, we have to do a rape kit as soon as possible. Do you understand?" asked the ER physician.

Allison slowly nodded her head, slightly unfocused due to the Ativan. The doctor looked at House from the corner of his eye, and then added, "Do you want Dr. House to stay with you?"

House froze. Apparently the doctor had heard their exchange. He looked at Allison, awaiting her response. Allison slowly turned her head to see House, and nodded. "Yes," she said simply.

House let out a breath that he hadn't know he was holding. As the nurses pulled curtains around Allison's bed, he slowly took a chair and pushed it over to the head of the bed. He sat down, trying to find a comfortable position so that his leg wouldn't get stiff. He leaned his cane against the wall, and let out a deep sigh. He looked intently at Allison's face. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was rapid; apparently the Ativan hadn't made her go to sleep. He could tell by the grimace on her face that she was in pain. 'Of course she's in pain, you moron,' he thought to himself. She had just been beaten and raped.

He took a deep breath, and it finally hit him. Allison had been raped. She had been hurt. He swallowed, feeling his eyes well up with tears. He tightly closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers, forcing the tears back, not wanting to show weakness when all Allison needed was strength.

The doctor walked into the curtained room, and slowly walked to Allison's bedside, clipboard in hand. "Dr. Cameron, I need to ask you some questions before I do the examination. Is that okay with you?"

Allison opened her eyes and nodded, knowing what was going to be asked. She thought that she should ask that House leave. She was ashamed by what had happened. She didn't want him to see her so weak. But she also didn't want to be alone. "I know," she whispered.

The doctor gave her an encouraging smile. "First off, when was your last consensual sexual encounter?"

Allison took a breath, knowing the questions were going to get even harder than this. She didn't look the doctor in the face when she answered. "Six months ago, I think," she said so low that the doctor could barely hear her.

The doctor nodded, writing this information down. "Okay. When was your last menstrual cycle?" he asked, glancing at her from his papers.

Allison raised her hand and rubbed her temple, wincing when she accidentally touched a bruise. "A week ago."

The doctor nodded again, writing some more. "Okay, now these next questions may be a bit uncomfortable, okay? Just take your time answering them. There's no rush."

Allison nodded, knowing what was coming next. She saw a movement in the corner of her eye and glanced over at House. He stood up, looking down at her. "Allison, I can go if you feel uncomfortable." House searched her eyes, waiting for a reply.

Allison swallowed, feeling tears welling up in her eyes, flowing down her face. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered, looking at him through tear-filled eyes, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

House nodded. "I'm here then, Allison. I'm not leaving you."

Allison raised her hands, wiping the tears off her face. "I'm ready," she told the doctor.

The man waited until she was as composed as she could get, and then started asking the required questions. "Was there full vaginal penetration?"

Allison closed her eyes, not wanting to look at anyone. She nodded silently.

"Was there anal or oral penetration?"

House gripped the bed rails with his hands, trying to control himself. He looked at Allison, wishing he could help her through this, but knew that the best way to help was to be silent.

Allison opened her mouth, and then closed it. She took a deep breath. "Oral," she whispered slowly. She felt a sob well up in her throat, and tried to fight it, but couldn't. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm okay," she said as she cried softly.

The doctor handed her a tissue, and she took it and wiped her eyes. "Are you ready for some more questions?" the doctor asked kindly.

Allison nodded, wanting to get this over and done with.

"Was there just one man?" the doctor asked. Allison nodded her head. "How many times was there vaginal penetration?"

Allison looked straight ahead, not focusing on anything. "Two or three times. I'm not sure. I…I think I blacked out during some of it."

"And how many times was there oral penetration?"

"Once," she said softly. She glanced up at the doctor. "I threw up," she stated simply. "After I got myself untied, I threw up. So I don't think an oral swab would be necessary."

The doctor made a notation on his pad and nodded. "We'll still do one, just in case." He went to the curtain and called for a nurse, and then turned back. "I'm going to do the examination now, okay? I'll try to make it as comfortable as possible."

Allison nodded as a nurse came in pushing a cart with all the necessary items on it. She looked up at House, who was still standing by her side. "You can leave, if you want. But I…I would like you to stay with me. But I understand if you feel uncomfortable," she added in a hurry.

House looked down at her. Of course, only Allison would be worried about his comfort while she was going through something as awful as this. "I want to stay with you," he said simply. He placed his hand lightly on hers, letting her become comfortable with his touch. "Is this okay?"

Allison opened her hand and gripped his, nodding, thankful for his understanding.

The nurse walked up and started to pull the sheets up over Allison's feet. "This will only take a minute. I just need to get your prepared so that the doctor can exam you." Allison nodded. The nurse placed Allison's feet in the stirrups attached to the table, and brought the sheet down over feet again, restoring her modesty.

Allison squeezed House's hand and took a deep breath. She tried to calm herself again as the doctor seated himself at her feet and raised the sheet. "I'm going to take some samples, and then I'll perform the pelvic exam, okay?"

Allison nodded her head. She flinched slightly as she felt the doctor's hands on the insides of her thighs. "Just relax, Dr. Cameron. I know this is uncomfortable, but it'll only last a few minutes."

Allison nodded again, gripping House's hand. House squeezed her hand, letting her know he was there for her. She closed her eyes, and focused on the grip she had on House's hand.

After a few moments, the doctor spoke up again. "I'm going to perform the pelvic exam now, okay? Just try to relax and I'll go as fast as I can."

Allison squeezed her eyes shut, and flinched in pain as she felt the speculum against her body. "I know you're sore. I'll try to be as gentle as I can," the doctor said as he heard her whimper in pain.

House looked at the doctor, willing him to hurry up. He looked down at Allison's face, his heart breaking at the tears sliding down her cheeks.

A few moments later, the doctor got up. "Okay, we need to take some pictures of all the marks and bruises. The nurse will help position you, okay?"

House squeezed her hand, making her look up at him. "I'm going to stand out by the curtain. I'll be right outside if you need me." Allison nodded. She was thankful that she didn't have to ask him to leave for this final exam.

"I'll be right outside," he repeated, and squeezed her hand one last time. He grabbed his cane, and limped slowly to the curtains, making his way to a chair a few feet away so that he could sit and relieve the pain in his leg.

He sat down slowly, rubbing his thigh. He didn't know what he could do to help her. She needed somebody who was gentle; somebody she could feel comfortable around. He wasn't sure if he was the best person for that or not. But he _wanted_ to be that person. He sighed heavily, feeling weary from the long night.

He glanced over at the curtains, and could see Allison's feet and ankles as the nurse helped her out of the bed. He saw the bloody lines across her ankles, and suddenly felt an overwhelming, all consuming anger well up in his chest. He would kill the bastard if they found him. He felt his jaw tightening in rage. He would kill him for hurting the only person in the world whom he had ever cherished.

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As the nurse helped Allison back into the bed, she lowered her body slowly, gingerly. They had taken several pictures of all her bruises, scratches and marks. They had tried to conserve her modesty by covering up her nakedness in most. But others, like the bruises from the brutal fingers on her breasts, they couldn't cover up.

"Can I take a shower now?" she asked the nurse, who was sorting through the Polaroid pictures.

The nurse glanced up. "I'll just go ask the doctor real fast. He may want to dress your wrists and ankles first." The nurse turned and headed out of the room in search of the doctor.

Allison sighed, dragging the blanket up her body and rolled to her left side, trying to alleviate the rib pain on her right side. They had taken x-rays, and sure enough, she had three broken ribs on her right side.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut everything out. What was she going to do? How different was she going to be as a person? Was she going to jump at every shadow? Or would she come through this, unscathed? She knew it was wishful thinking on her part to believe that. There was no way she was going to be the exact same as she had been prior to the attack. But she believed she could get through this. She had to. She felt herself slip into sleep as she was thinking to herself, and didn't fight it. She closed her eyes, and welcomed the peace.

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House looked up when he heard his name called, and saw Foreman and Cuddy walking toward him.

"How is she?" Cuddy asked, with a frown on her face.

House paused, not answering for a moment. "Not well." He rubbed his thigh. "I guess as good as could be expected in this situation."

Cuddy nodded and sat beside him. "Has she talked about what happened?"

"They performed the rape kit and she answered the questions, but no. She hasn't talked to me personally about it."

Foreman had been quiet during this exchange. "How does she look?"

"How do you think she looks?" he asked angrily. He shook his head. He didn't need to take his anger out on Foreman. He sighed. "Not well. He beat her. He tied her down. She has marks all over body."

Foreman nodded slowly, taking in this information. "Well, let me know if I can do anything for you. I need to get back upstairs to the patient." He turned and walked out of the department, leaving Cuddy and House.

Cuddy stole a glance at House, noting how tired he looked. "Do you think you should go rest? I doubt you've had any sleep in the past 24 hours."

"Neither has she," House stated simply. He softened his voice, hating the harshness of it. "I'm sorry. I'm fine. I'm just going to stay with her."

Cuddy nodded, knowing that she couldn't talk him out of it. "I'll be in my office if you need anything." As she stood up, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "You need to be strong for her, House. And that means you need to take care of yourself too." She let that sink in for a moment, and then turned and went out of the department, leaving House alone.

House leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. Cuddy was right. Allison needed him to be strong.

"Dr. House?" He opened his eyes, looking at the nurse who had called his name. "Dr. Cameron is asleep right now. When she wakes, we'll take her to have a shower and then move her to a private room."

House nodded his thanks for the information and stood up. He made his way to Allison's room, and peeked in through the curtain. She was on her side, sleeping. He walked in slowly, and stood by her bed. He took one of her hands in his, and stroked the back of it with his thumb. He had always noticed she was fine boned, but had never realized just how fragile she was until now. Her skin was translucent, her bones small. He noticed a cut on her finger, and realized that it was where she had cut herself with the letter opener. He thought back to that morning, remembering their banter about the tea, about buying her a new shirt. That morning had been like any other morning, and yet look where it had ended.

House gazed at her face, taking in all the bruises and cuts, yet still she was beautiful. House had always thought her beautiful; striking, in fact. Her creamy skin was marred by the marks of physical violence, and they somehow made her seem more delicate, more fragile.

"Dr. House?" a voice whispered. House looked over and saw the doctor standing by the curtains. He waved House to him, and House gently placed Allison's hand on the bed. He limped over to the doctor.

"I was just going through Dr. Cameron's file, and apparently she had you as her ICE contact. I wanted to talk to you about her condition." House nodded for him to continue, surprised that Allison had designated him as her ICE contact. "We gave her all the STD meds and have taken tests to see if she's positive for any. I'm going to keep her overnight for observation, and then release her tomorrow if there are no complications." He cleared his throat, pausing. "Also, the police are here and want to question her. I told them that she needed to rest and that I would notify them when she woke up and was settled."

House nodded his thanks. "I appreciate it." He held out his hand and shook the doctor's hand. The doctor turned and went across the department to a different bedside to treat another patient.

House slowly walked back to Allison's room, and slipped between the curtains. He noticed immediately that Allison was awake. "Hey," she said softly. House walked up to the bed and slowly took her hand, trying not to startle her. "How do you feel?" he asked, and immediately felt like an idiot.

"I've been better," she said, squeezing his hand, knowing he was berating himself for asking that question. "Did the doctor say when I could be released?"

"He's going to keep you for observation tonight, and then discharge you tomorrow." House paused, thinking. "I don't want you to be alone. Do you have anybody who can stay with you for a while?"

Allison looked down at their joined hands and slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I don't want to be alone either," she admitted.

House took in this information, and made a decision. "I will stay at your place." He made this statement, leaving no room for argument.

Allison looked up into his face. "Thank you," she said simply, her voice deep with emotion.

"I see that you're up now, Dr. Cameron. Would you like to take a shower now?" the nurse asked.

Allison jumped, startled by the nurse's sudden appearance. "Yes, thank you." She tried sitting up, and House helped her by placing his arm around her back to give her support. The sheet fell down by her waist, revealing that her gown had slipped open, and for a second House saw a naked breast. His breath hissed through his mouth as he gasped at the sight he saw. Her right breast had angry bruises over it. Allison looked down to see what he was staring at, and stilled when she saw her nakedness. House slowly closed her gown to cover her nakedness and looked at Allison's face.

She was pale, looking down at the floor. He could see the ashamed look on her face. House placed his hand under her chin and raised her face to his eyes. "Allison," he began, "you have nothing to be ashamed of," he whispered. Allison met his eyes, and felt tears beginning to form in her eyes. She tried to look away, but House wouldn't let her. "I mean it. What happened to you was not your fault. Was not your fault at all. You need to understand that. You have nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of."

Allison felt silent tears tracking down her face. She nodded her head, not knowing what else to do. But he didn't understand. She knew that it wasn't her fault. Of course it wasn't. But she was ashamed because she was _grateful_ that her rapist had let her live. She felt the need to actually thank the bastard for not killing her. That was something she could never let anybody know. It was her shameful secret.

House looked at her for another moment, knowing that he couldn't help her right now. First she needed to heal physically. And then he could help her.

The nurse brought over a wheelchair and helped Allison off the bed and placed her into the wheelchair, while House stood back, not getting in the way. The nurse wheeled her out, and House was alone. He walked out of the room, and stood for a moment. He made his way to the elevators, deciding he needed to go to his office for at least a while today. As the doors opened and he got on the elevator, he couldn't help but hope that he was strong enough to help Allison through this.

******************************************************************

Allison closed her eyes as the nurse wheeled her to the private locker room reserved for doctor use.

"I'll be out here while you're taking a shower. Just let me know if you need any help, all right?" the nurse asked kindly.

Allison smiled her thanks, and slowly shuffled into the shower room, locking the door behind her. She took a deep breath and went to the nearest stall and turned the water on full blast. She turned the hot water up as far as it would go, and slowly shrugged out of her hospital gown. She looked down at her body, at the bruises and scrapes all over. She turned to the water, and walked under the stream, gasping at the temperature. She took the soap in her hand and started scrubbing ferociously at her body, ignoring the pain as she scrubbed her wrists. She numbly realized that they hadn't bandaged her wrists or ankles, and her wounds stung at the hot water and harsh scrubbing.

After scrubbing her entire body, Allison let the soap drop from her hand. She closed her eyes and placed her face into the stream of water. She turned around, letting the water hit her hair, feeling it go down her back. She took a deep breath, knowing the floodgates were going to open at any moment. She felt sobs wracking her body, letting them out, not trying to control the noise as she cried. She slipped to the floor, still feeling the water at her back, and bent her knees to her chest. She placed her head onto her knees, rocking back and forth.

After what could have been only five minutes, or possibly as much as an hour, Allison pushed herself to her feet. She numbly turned off the water and shuffled over to her towel, drying herself off, and put on a clean gown. She slowly walked to the door, still extremely sore, unlocked it, and stepped out. The nurse stood up, and smiled kindly, helping her into the wheelchair.

"I'm going to take you to your room now, all right. There you can have a proper rest and perhaps something to eat."

"Thank you," Allison said quietly. She closed her eyes, feeling the motion of the wheelchair as she was taken to her room.

*******************************************************************

House was sitting at his desk, his legs propped up on the corner of it. He was deep in thought, squeezing the tennis ball in his hand, feeling the plastic give slightly every time he compressed his fingers.

How did he need to treat Allison? He knew she didn't want him to treat her like she was damaged. He squeezed the ball, releasing it slowly. Of course, she had already been damaged before this. But this, well….this was different obviously. He definitely couldn't act like nothing had happened.

He glanced into the other room, seeing Chase and Foreman discussing something at the table. Chase had already apologized repeatedly about leaving Allison high and dry after work. And House knew that he was probably sorry for it. But still, he knew he would always feel resentment and anger toward Chase after this. He squeezed the ball again, hearing the plastic protest at the pressure.

He would deal with Chase later. Right now, he needed to establish a plan of action regarding Allison. He had already said he would stay at her apartment, but now he doubted his decision. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea. After all, he was probably the least person qualified to deal with a traumatized individual. He had always been better with keeping his distance, coldly observing behaviors and figuring a person out by his observations. He didn't deal with emotions, either experiencing them or talking about them. He squeezed the ball, feeling the pain in his fingers. He had a whole day before worrying about staying at her apartment with her. If he didn't think he should follow through with it, he could always arrange for a nurse to stay with her.

He placed his feet on the floor, stood up, and walked over to the other room. "Any change in our patient?" he asked to no one in particular as he walked over to the coffee machine.

Chase shook his head, not looking up. "No," he replied. "But he's not getting any worse, so that's good news."

House grunted. "If he's not getting any better, then he's getting worse. Any new symptoms?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "No. His effusions aren't clearing up, but he's febrile now."

House turned around, a decidedly confused look on his face. "Oh, he has a fever? I just thought somebody told me there were no new symptoms." He mulled over this new information as if truly puzzled.

Chase shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "A fever is not something to get worked up about. It goes hand in hand with the effusions."

House smiled at him the same way he would smile at a simple, slow thinking child. "Of course, of course. Or perhaps he has a new infection that is just now causing his fever. He didn't show up with a fever, Dr. Chase, but he did show up with the effusions. Run a CBC and perform a chest CT. Let me know if his white count is raised. If it is, it's an infection and start him on Cipro. If not, well, it's not an infection. We'll work from there."

Foreman nodded, rising from his seat and walked out of the room with the file in his hand. Chase slowly rose from his chair, his eyes on House. "You know, I have apologized several times. I was tired. I wanted to go home. I figured that she could call security to take her to her car." He stopped for a moment, mulling over his next words. "You can't blame me for what happened. There were several other contingencies that occurred. You can't punish me for what happened just because you think it was my fault."

House stared hard at him, not saying anything for a moment. "I haven't been punishing you. If you think my mocking you a few moments ago was my way to get back at you because of Dr. Cameron's attack, then you're much more simple minded than I had thought." He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes not leaving Chase. "By your jumping to your own defense after a slight that I admittedly relish doing at least three times a day tells me two things. First, you feel guilty. You're adamant that it wasn't your fault, yet you obviously can't stop thinking about it."

Chase waited for a moment, then asked, "And the second thing?"

House turned his back on Chase, walking to his office. "You're an asshole," he replied, without missing a beat.

Chase's mouth tightened as he watched House's progress. He turned slowly and walked out of the department, a scowl on his face. Much as he hated to admit it, House was right on both accounts. He did feel slightly guilty. And he was, indeed, an asshole.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N First off, I wanted to thank all those who reviewed. It is very helpful when I know what you guys are thinking, and what you guys think are bad ideas or good ideas. Please, continue letting me know!

Also, I wanted to clarify how I refer to Allison Cameron. When I am writing the thoughts and speech of her coworkers or other parties, I am using either her full name or the name Cameron, because I find it to be more professional. However, seeing as how this is a House/Cameron pairing, I am having House use her first name, Allison. I believe it makes it more personal, and reflects his feelings better. I wanted to let you know that I'm not being sporatic in the usage of her name.

Again, thank you for your reviews. I really do appreciate them.

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Allison stared up at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. The nurse had just left after bandaging her wrists and ankles. She also informed her that the police wanted to talk to her. They would be here in the next ten minutes or so, she thought to herself.

She turned her head, looking out the window. Her eyes were burning, undoubtedly from lack of sleep and from crying. She swallowed thickly. She didn't think she had ever cried so much in her life, as she had in the last 24 hours.

She slowly sat up, suddenly feeling the need to go to the restroom and look at herself in the mirror. She placed her feet on the cold linoleum floor, and slowly stood. She shuffled to the restroom door, closed her eyes, and flipped the switch. She slowly opened her eyes, seeing her reflection in the mirror. She stared at herself. She looked like a ghost. Her eyes were red and swollen, no doubt from crying. She noted her pallor complexion, due to lack of sleep.

She took a few more steps, stopping directly in front of the mirror. She raised her hands, lightly touching the bruises on her cheeks and forehead, as if willing them away. She traced the raw, painful spots at the corners of her mouth where the gag had rubbed against her skin. 'I need to ask for some ointment for this,' she thought.

While her hands were still at her face, she focused her eyes on her wrists, again noting the bandages covering the lacerations. They were going to scar, she could tell. No doubt the ankle lacerations would as well. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and turned around. She wanted to take a closer, more calculated look at the rest of her body, but she was already feeling weak. She needed to reserve her strength so that she could talk to the police.

She turned off the restroom light and made her way back to the bed and slowly got back underneath the covers. She shivered. She was freezing. Again, lack of sleep, she thought. And perhaps shock.

Allison jumped at a sudden sharp knock. "Come in," she called. The door opened and two men walked in, obviously the police. One was in his mid to late 50s, short, husky, and with a receding hairline. The other, probably in his early 30s, was taller and athletically built.

"Allison Cameron?" asked the older one. Allison nodded her head yes. They both advanced into the room, and stopped at her bedside. "I'm Detective Dave Fields, and this is my partner, Detective Andrew Shepherd," the older police officer said. "Is it okay to ask you a few questions?"

Allison nodded. "Yes, of course."

Detective Fields took out his notebook and pen, jotting down a few lines. "I realize you're probably tired, so we'll try to be as brief as possible. First off, we pulled a security video from the security system, but we still need to get a statement from you. Can you describe to us what happened?"

Allison took a deep breath, collecting herself. She needed to be as concise and detailed as she could. "I was walking to my car, and I had just placed my briefcase in the backseat when he slammed into me, and I fell. I tried to get away from him by crawling under the car, but I wasn't fast enough." She paused, clearing her throat, giving herself a moment to think back, remembering the details. "He tied my wrists and ankles. Then he took out a knife." Allison stopped, thinking back to that moment. "I thought he was going to kill me. But then he started to laugh. I could tell he was playing with me, wanting to scare me." She brushed her hands across the blanket that lay over legs. "He took me to some place. I was in the car for maybe twenty minutes. He took me into the building. Tied me down. Then he raped me." Allison glanced at Detective Fields. "I never saw his face. He had a ski mask on."

Detective Fields nodded. "Did he say anything to you? Would you recognize his voice?"

Allison shook her head. "No. He didn't say one word. But he did laugh." She closed her eyes, remembering her fear. Remembering her helplessness. She opened her eyes and met the detective's. "I'll always remember that laugh."

Detective Shepherd spoke up. "Can you describe him to us? Was he tall? Short? Thin? Could you tell what race he was?"

Allison brought her hands to her face, rubbing her temples. "He was tall. Over six feet. He was strong. Very strong." She closed her eyes, willing herself to remember anything about him. "He was muscular. I think he was white; it was dark, but I could see his hands. I am pretty sure he was white."

Suddenly her eyes sprang open. "He had a birth mark. When he took out his knife, I saw the back of his hand. He had a café au lait spot on the dorsal aspect of his left hand."

The detectives looked at each, seeming to communicate without saying anything. Detective Shepherd turned to her. "Another woman that was attacked, she also mentioned a skin discoloration on his left hand, though she didn't know what it was. Can you describe it to us?"

Allison nodded. "It was light brown, oval, perhaps 8 cm or more in size." She closed her eyes, wracking her brain for any additional information. "People who have café au lait spots usually only have a couple, three max. But if there are more than three, it's usually indicative of neurofibromatosis." She looked at the blank expressions on the faces of the detectives. "It's a genetically inherited disease of the nervous system. The patients develop tumors where nerves are located."

Detective Fields looked at her questioningly. "So….you believe he has neurofibromatosis?"

Allison shook her head impatiently. "I'm not saying that. I am just saying that since he has that specific birthmark, he may also have neurofibromatosis. It's a condition that has to be closely monitored. It's not rare, but it is also not common." A thought suddenly struck her. "It may also explain that he didn't take off his clothes. If he had, I might have seen the tumors."

The detectives once again glanced at each. "He didn't take off his clothes?" Detective Shepherd asked her slowly.

Allison shook her head. "No. No, he didn't." She looked down at her lap, deep in thought. She thought back to the attack. It had never consciously occurred to her that he hadn't taken off his clothes until just now. It wasn't something that she had taken note of. She had been in shock. She had been fighting for her life.

Suddenly, she felt nauseous. What else was she not remembering? What if he _had_ said something, and she just didn't remember it? 'Oh my god,' she thought, 'he might have done or said something that would help catch him, but I can't remember it.'

"Are you okay? Ms. Cameron?" Detective Shepherd looked worriedly at his partner. "I think we need to call a nurse." Detective Fields nodded, turning to leave in order to find a nurse.

Detective Shepherd turned back to Allison, noting how pale she had become in the last few moments. "Ms. Cameron, do you hear me?"

Allison heard her name called, and raised her head, dazed. She saw the young detective looking at her, worry in his eyes.

"Do you hear me? Do you need help?"

She nodded. "I'm going to throw up," she whispered.

The detective looked quickly around himself, trying to find a container. He noticed a small bedpan across the room, grabbed it, and started back to the bed, but was too late. Allison turned weakly to the side of the bed, and vomited on the floor. She moaned as her ribs protested as she heaved, trying to apply pressure to her right side to relieve the pain.

At that moment, a nurse rushed in, followed by Detective Fields. She went immediately to Allison's side, grabbing the bedpan out of Detective Shepherd's hand on her way to her patient. She placed her arm around Allison's back, trying to support her.

"My ribs," Allison whispered breathlessly between dry heaves. The nurse nodded, and applied pressure to Allison's side, trying to alleviate the pain.

During this time, the detectives hung back, watching in silence. After a few moments, Allison stopped heaving and the nurse gently laid her back on the bed, repositioning the pillows. She turned to the detectives. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave for a minute while I get this cleaned up."

The detectives nodded, turning, but stopped at Allison's voice. "No, don't go yet," she whispered. She swallowed, grimacing at the taste in her mouth. "I'm sorry. I…I just don't know what I can remember. I keep recalling different things, but I don't know what else I'm forgetting." She swallowed slowly, feeling tears at the back of her throat. She forced them back down. She was _not_ going to cry.

Detective Shepherd walked to her side. "Don't worry. This is normal. Things will slowly come back to you, and when they do, you just need to let us know as soon as possible." He gave her a slight smile. "We'll come back later, but I think you need to rest. You've been through a lot. Once you've had some time to rest, your memory will be better, and we'll be back to talk to you more. Okay?"

Allison nodded, thankful for his understanding and kindness. "Thank you," she said quietly.

He nodded, and turned back to his partner, both leaving the room. As they walked to the elevator, Detective Shepherd glanced at his partner. "If she's right about this neurofibromatosis thing, it will definitely narrow the suspects down."

Detective Fields nodded. "All the women said he didn't take off his clothes during the attack." He mulled this over in his head, biting the inside of his cheek. It was an old habit, something he did when he was thinking hard about something. His wife had tried to break him of it, but old habits die hard. "We need to talk to the other victim who noticed the thing on his hand, and see if her description corresponds with Allison Cameron's. If it does, then we definitely just got a break."

They both entered the elevator as the doors opened, and Shepherd pressed the button for the lobby. He turned to his partner with a worried look on his face. "Did you see the marks on her face? He's escalating. He threatened the other women, but he didn't beat them like that." He paused. "And he didn't restrain them either. He used his hands to control the victims in the other three rapes, but he didn't tie them down."

Fields nodded his head, agreeing. "I know. Which means we have to find him fast before he hurts another woman."

They both exited the elevator, and started for the main doors. Neither said another word until they reached the car and got in. As Shepherd started the car, he finally broke the silence. "She was trying in there. Did you see that? She's trying to remember, and because she can't, she's beating herself up."

He backed out of the parking space, and slowly made his way to the exit of the parking lot. "We should go back later tonight, to see if she has anything else for us to work with." He was quiet for a moment. "I feel awful for her, you know? I realize I've only been a detective for a couple of months, but to see how somebody can treat another human being like that boggles my mind. It's not like she did anything to deserve it. The pictures from the rape kit were just horrible." He forced himself to stop talking, genuinely upset.

Fields was quiet for a moment, trying to choose his words wisely. "Yes, I noticed." He paused, contemplating what he should say. "It's good to be empathetic, Shepherd. In fact, it makes you a better detective. But you can't get personal. You have to stay objective. I know you have a hard time with that. I understand, considering your past and all. But you need to keep Allison Cameron in your mind as a victim, not as a person. Nothing more. Or else you get too involved, messing up your judgment. And you can't afford that in this line of work."

Shepherd tightened his hands around the steering wheel. He knew his partner was right. He let out a sigh. He wasn't new to violence. He had been in the Marines since he was 18, fresh out of high school. He had just been medically discharged when he applied to the police academy. He had passed with flying colors; not surprising of course. They had immediately offered him a position as a detective, and he jumped at the chance. Why spend years pulling people over and handing them tickets if he could fast track his way to a job he knew he would like better; one he knew he would excel at. In the Marines, he had been a sniper. A damn good one, too. That is, until his right knee had been crushed while on a mission. He now had a total knee replacement, and he could perform just about any task. Slowly, that is. The Marines had discharged him, citing his injury and inability to 'keep up' with his fellow Marines. He had been bitter at first. Hell, he was still a little bitter. He had felt like they had thrown him away like a disposable washrag; he was damaged goods in their eyes.

But he liked being a detective. True, he didn't experience the same thrills; there weren't many adrenaline rushes in this line of work. But he liked puzzles. And there were several puzzles to be had in this job.

Fields had mentioned his past. He apparently knew about his sister. Word travels fast, it seems. Of course he didn't share this information with his coworkers. He enjoyed his privacy. He treasured it. But apparently one of his superiors had mentioned it to Fields, probably thinking he was doing him a favor; giving him a glimpse into the young man he was taking under his wing and molding into a detective. He realized it wasn't Fields fault, and he knew that his partner would keep this information to himself. But it still pissed him off that his private business was bandied about without his knowledge.

He couldn't help but think of his sister when he saw Allison Cameron in the hospital. But they didn't look alike at all. His sister had been fair, had possessed a fragile, ethereal beauty. Allison Cameron, on the other hand, was strikingly beautiful, with her dark hair and porcelain skin. She had looked so small in that bed. When he had at first laid eyes on her, his immediate reaction was that he needed to take care of her. The same way he had needed to take care of his sister, but had failed.

He turned to Fields. "Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind," he said simply.

Fields nodded. He could already tell that Shepherd was going to be excellent detective. And if he heeded his counsel, he would be outstanding.

Fields looked out his window. He just hoped Shepherd's past wouldn't interfere with his future.

****************************************************************

Chase massaged the back of his neck, willing the stiffness to go away. House had assigned him to do his paperwork. He _hated_ paperwork. And House knew that. But he didn't complain. House had been right when he said that Chase felt guilty. But Chase was not going to admit it. He would quietly submit to House's punishments, paying recompense for his carelessness.

He glanced at the clock, noting it was 11:30 in the morning. He went back to his paperwork, sighing. He needed to go see Cameron. He wasn't sure what he would say, or if there was anything to say, but he needed to see her. He needed to ask for forgiveness for his actions. And he hoped that she would accept his apologies. And he was pretty sure she would; she wasn't one to hold a grudge. But then again, he wasn't sure if he would forgive him if he were in her shoes. And would he blame her if she held him accountable? He closed his eyes, running his hand through his hair slowly. She had every right to hate him. He didn't feel that he directly caused any of this, but he had certainly facilitated it.

He made his decision, getting up from the chair, and walked out of the department. Foreman had already told him what room she was in. No doubt, he gave him this information to spur him into action, feeling that he needed to talk to Cameron. It frustrated Chase that both Foreman and House were in the same line of thought that he was somehow culpable for all of this. He was used to being blamed, because he deserved it. He would readily admit that he would sell his father down the river if it meant that he would receive some sort of advancement. But this….this was different. It certainly wasn't intentional. And obviously he was receiving any kind of remuneration.

As he walked down the hallway to Cameron's hospital room, he suddenly felt his hands go damp. He slowed his pace, trying to think of what to say. He came to her room, and saw that the door was closed. He knocked lightly, and then pushed it open.

Allison's heart jumped when she heard the knock, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw only Chase in the doorway. "Hello," she greeted quietly.

Chase stood by the door, not coming very far into the room. He nodded at her hello, his mind blank. What to say?

Allison eyed him, starting to feel self conscious. He was staring at her, with an unreadable expression on his face. She hoped that he wasn't staring at the marks on her face. She shifted in the bed, looking away from him.

Chase was, in fact, staring at the bruises. This was the first time he had seen her since last night. He swallowed, feeling self hate exuding from his every pore. If he hadn't felt responsible before, now he felt totally blameworthy.

He walked slowly into the room, closer to the bed. Allison looked up at him expectantly when he stopped a couple of feet away. "I'm sorry," he hoarsely said. He looked down, not able to look at her face. "I'm sorry I didn't wait for you last night. I was..." his voice trailed off. He shook his head. He needed to make this apology matter. He looked back up at her. "It's my fault. I should have waited, but I didn't. I am just so sorry."

Allison was quiet. Chase was apologizing? She didn't blame Chase. Last night, Chase was just being….Chase.

"It's not your fault." She said this quietly, but with conviction. He met her eyes, shocked at her words. "It's not," she repeated. She looked down at her lap, pausing to consider her words before continuing. "I don't believe in fate. I don't believe that there is a master plan, that our futures have already been made. I believe in time and unforeseen occurrence." She raised her eyes to his. "And last night was just that. So many different things happened that could have changed. I could have drawn the short straw. The security guard could have met me at the doors. You could have waited for me. But none of those things happened." She paused, realizing how much she truly believed in her words. She somehow felt more at peace within herself, for speaking them. _It was nobody's fault._

Chase's eyes met her gaze, not saying anything. He didn't deserve to get off this easily, he thought. She should be screaming at him, raving about his selfishness and irresponsibility. But instead, she was letting him off the hook, without an angry word uttered. "Why?" He spoke the single word with so much feeling that his voice cracked with emotion.

Allison looked down at her hands in her lap. She knew he was not only asking why she didn't blame him, but also why she did not blame anyone. Why was it nobody's fault?

She took a deep, slow, steadying breath. "Because I wouldn't be able to live, wondering 'what if.'" She closed her eyes. "If I had just went back to get Foreman. Or if I had just waited for the security guard. If I had heard him behind me…" She opened her eyes and looked at Chase. "So, you see, it's not just you I'm letting off easily. It's myself also."

Chase nodded, still not fully understanding, but accepting her reasons. He turned around, located a chair, pulled it beside her bed, and sat down. "How do you feel?"

Allison smiled, but winced when the corners of her mouth protested at the strain. Chase noticed this, noting the raw skin around her mouth. He pulled his Burt's Bees lip balm out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it from him gratefully, and applied it to her lips. "I've always loved Burt's Bees," she said.

Chase smiled and nodded, grateful at her attempt of small talk. "Just don't tell anyone I carry lip balm, or I'll never hear the end of it." Allison smiled back, and went to hand it back to him, but he shook his head. "You can keep it. I have a whole stash in my locker." She nodded her thanks, placing it on the bedside table.

"To answer your question, I'm doing better than I would have expected." She sighed, looking out the window. "I want to go home, though. As crazy as this sounds, I hate hospitals." She closed her eyes, bringing her hands to her neck to rub away the tension. "I just want this all to be over," she whispered so quietly that Chase barely heard her.

He nodded silently. He could only imagine. "Do you know when they're releasing you?"

"Tomorrow." She winced as she accidentally brushed her fingers too hard against her skin. They had put antibacterial ointment on her nailbeds, and placed bandages on the worst of her fingers. But it still hurt when she applied too much pressure while using her hands. She let her hands fall to her sides, and looked at Chase. "Any progress with the patient?"

Chase eyed her. "I don't think you need to worry about that right now. House, Foreman, and I are taking care of him."

Allison nodded her head. "I figured. I just wanted to talk about something else besides being in the hospital and lip balm."

Chase smiled, understanding. He stood up and walked to the window and started to explain the symptoms. "Well, he started complaining of chest pain earlier today, and we did a ventilation perfusion scan, and found a pulmonary embolus. He has a fever, pleural effusions, nausea and vomiting. We did a CT of his chest, and found what I believe to be sequela from previous granulomatous disease, but it's inconclusive. When I suggested that, House practically laughed me out of the Radiology Department." He shook his head, still upset by House's reaction. He turned to Cameron. "And then…" He stopped. She was asleep.

He walked quietly to the door, and took one last look at her before closing it behind him, trying to be as quiet as possible.

************************************************************

House limped down the hallway to the Oncology Department, making his way to Wilson's office. He walked in without knocking, causing Wilson to glower at him.

"One of these days you're going to regret you didn't knock, House." He turned back to his paperwork, reading over the chart of his next patient.

House made his way to Wilson's desk and sat. After a few moments of waiting for Wilson to look at him, he started thumping his cane against the desk. He immediately saw Wilson's jaw stiffen, and continued, but with more force.

Wilson threw his pen down on his desk and looked at House. "Is there a reason you must act like a 5-year-old with ADD?"

House frowned. "Now that's just not nice." He stopped his knocking, and regarded Wilson. "At least I don't have a short attention span when it comes to marriage."

Wilson rubbed his temples with fingers, closing his eyes. "Is there something you need? I have an appointment in fifteen minutes."

House was silent for a moment. "I need some advice." He twirled his cane in his hand, and looked up at Wilson. "About Allison."

Wilson eyed him. "It's Allison now, huh? You have always referred to her as Cameron."

"Are you going to help me, or not?" House asked, frustrated. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Wilson knew him too well. He knew him well enough that he could tell what he was thinking most of the time, and right now he wanted to keep his personal thoughts about Allison to himself.

Wilson nodded. "How is she?" he asked.

"She's resting. They're keeping her overnight for observation and then releasing her." He paused, setting his cane down on the floor. "I told her that I would stay with her at her apartment. So that she wouldn't be alone." He looked up at Wilson to see his reaction.

Wilson leaned back in his chair, considering. "House, you need to tread carefully here."

House stood up and started pacing. "I know that. Of course I know that. It just spilled out of my mouth. And I can't stand to think of her being alone at night. She has no business being by herself at night, after what just happened." He slowed his pacing, rubbing his thigh. He turned to Wilson. "I want to be there for her, to show her that I care. But I don't think that I should stay with her. It just doesn't seem to be a good idea." He let this sink in. "What do you think?"

Wilson rubbed his chin, deciding what to say. "I agree. But you can't just recant now." He slowly shook his head. "You need to talk to her, and see if she wants you to stay with her. If she thinks she can be by herself, then that's great. If not…then you're going to have to follow through with your offer. This is not a time to make her feel abandoned."

House sat back down, feeling truly torn. He _wanted_ to stay with Allison. He did. But he also believed he was not the right person for this kind of job. He looked up at Wilson. "What if I have a nurse stay with her?"

Wilson stared at him. "Oh, that's the right way to treat a rape victim. Have a total stranger stay with her. I'm sure she'll feel safe and loved."

House glared at him. "No reason to be a jerk about it." He sat back. He dug out his Vicodin from his pocket and dry-swallowed a couple, hoping that it would lessen the pain in his leg.

Wilson considered House sitting across from him, and decided to get to the bottom of the issue. "House, do you have feelings for Cameron?"

House jerked his head up. "No!" He stared hard at Wilson. "She's my employee. I'm trying to be a thoughtful boss for once."

Wilson considered what he said. "If you do have feelings for her, then right now is not the time to act on them. What you should do is let her know you're a friend and that she can talk to you if she needs to. But the last thing she needs is to deal with your advances. She-"

"I'm not declaring my unconditional love here, Wilson! I'm trying to help her through this!" House yelled at him. He started to get up, but Wilson stopped him.

"Hear me out, please." He waited for House to resettle himself in the chair, and continued. "We both know Cameron had a thing for you. She probably still does. But right now she's not in the right mind frame to think about those feelings; or yours, for that matter. And if you did make advances towards her and she accepted them, she may resent you later. She may feel you took advantage of her." Wilson paused, letting this sink in. "So if you do have some unresolved issues here, you need to put those on the back burner right now. Let her heal from this. And then, when she is better able to make those decisions, you can talk to her about it. Just not right now. So just act like you normally do with her, but you may want to go easy on the sarcasm and gruffness. Don't treat her any differently than how you treat Foreman or Chase."

House listened to this, looking down at the floor. Wilson was right. He needed to wait for Allison to get better, and then, if he still had feelings for her, he would address them.

"Thanks, Wilson." He slowly got up, and limped to the door. He turned back and looked at Wilson, asking the question he was most embarrassed to ask that revealed his feelings. "When do you think she'll be better from this?"

Wilson shrugged. "I have no idea. I guess only time will tell."

House nodded, and left the office, leaving Wilson alone. He closed the file in front of him and got up to go see his patient. He certainly hoped that House would pull through this, and let Cameron know how he felt about her. Because if not, he didn't think his friend would ever be a happy man.

**************************************************

A/N As you can tell, I'm going to introduce a couple of new characters in this story. Try to make it more interesting. Let me know what you think of Det. Shepherd. I'm trying to make him as interesting as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N I wanted to address Det. Shepherd's history regarding becoming a detective. Obviously, I shamelessly used my imagination and stretched the truth when I wrote that he was hired as a detective outright. In the read world, as a reviewer helpfully pointed out, you have to become a police officer, sit down for a test, and then you are eligible to become a detective.

This chapter is a little shorter, and I apologize. My mother was recently diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and I'm her primary caretaker. So you can imagine how little free time I have on my hands while I'm taking her to her treatments, working, and trying to have a regular social life a 24-year-old girl is supposed to have. So please be patient! I'm hoping to post the next chapter fairly soon, probably in the middle of next week.

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"Hello, Dr. Cameron. I'm Dr. Wasnick. We haven't personally met, but I'm sure we've heard of each other."

Allison smiled cautiously, and nodded her head. Dr. Katherine Wasnick was the hospital's head psychiatrist. She was a kindly looking woman in her 50s with short, gray hair and an ample figure. "Yes, I have heard of you. I think we've actually seen each other around the hospital a time or two." She made herself pause. She knew why Dr. Wasnick was here. It was pretty obvious. And while she didn't want to seem rude, she didn't particularly want to talk to her either. She considered herself a very private person. And, while she did believe in psychiatry, she did not feel it was something that she could benefit from at the moment.

Dr. Wasnick watched the emotions flit across the young woman's face. She knew exactly what was going through her head. She had been in this situation an untold amount of times, and knew the first reaction of rape victims was to clam up, not wanting to discuss what had happened.

Dr. Wasnick knew she needed to put Dr. Cameron at ease, or she would not be able to help her. She had to gain the young doctor's trust.

"I believe we both know why I'm here. It's very apparent." She waited until Allison nodded her head warily. "But we don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about." She paused, waiting to see if Allison would say anything, but she didn't.

She made her way to a chair and sat down, facing Allison. "I hear that you will be released tomorrow. How do you feel about that?"

Allison sighed, thinking that all psychiatrists were the same. They tried to veil their intentions of dissecting your thoughts by innocent questions. And when you least expected it, they turned your own words against you, and then would ask the inevitable question: 'How do you feel about that?'

"I would actually like to go home today. Contrary to what my profession is, I don't enjoy staying in hospitals, especially when I'm a patient."

Dr. Wasnick nodded and smiled. "I understand that. In fact, I believe most people would agree with you. Hospitals are certainly not enjoyable places to spend your time." She mulled over her next words. "What do you find enjoyable? I mean, what do you do in your pastime?"

Allison blinked. She was asking her what her hobbies were? "Well, it seems that I hardly ever have time to myself, but when I do happen to have some free time, I usually enjoy reading." She hoped this answer would suffice. She really did not want to be rude to the psychiatrist, but she also didn't want to get too personal. And she wasn't lying. She _did_ read in her free time.

The psychiatrist smiled. "I enjoy reading as well. I believe it relieves stress from a long, hard day. It lets me alone with my thoughts. I usually refer to it as my 'decompressing time.' Can I ask what type of books you read?"

Allison thought for a moment. "Fiction. I enjoy fiction." She paused. "I also enjoy reading medical journals, but when I find myself needing to relax, I enjoy reading the classics. Austen, the Bronte sisters, Dickens." She felt herself slowly relaxing, the tension easing from her body. She knew that Dr. Wasnick was trying to make her feel comfortable, but she found herself not minding. It was actually nice to talk about something neutral; not about what had happened.

Katherine smiled and said, "I prefer reading the classics as well. I believe that Jane Austen is probably the most favored author among the female sex." She received an encouraging smile from Allison. "I believe it's because she so aptly wrote the female psyche, making it much easier for each of us to better understand ourselves. We are naturally drawn to her characters, because we all have a little bit of Elizabeth, Emma and Fanny in ourselves. Her characters are very relatable."

Allison nodded her head, softly smiling. "I agree with you. All of her characters knew what they wanted, and were not ashamed to say what it was, or to fight for it."

Katherine smiled. "And they all overcame adversity, both environmentally and from their own selves. They all had flaws; they all had weaknesses. And they all had people in their lives that were supposedly their friends, but were not. A wolf in a sheep's clothing, if you will." She paused, letting that sink in. "Yet, with all of their troubles, they were able to defeat these hurdles, and lived the rest of their lives in happiness and peace." She smiled. "At least that's what I always like to think."

Allison looked down at her hands in her lap. "Dr. Wasnick, I don't want to seem rude, but I really don't believe that I need therapy." She raised her head and met the psychiatrist's eyes. "Yes, I was raped. But I'm not going to let that govern my life. I'm going to continue living it, not letting it take over every aspect of the way I live."

Katherine smiled kindly. "It's good to hear that you're not letting this affect your way of life. But sometimes, it's nice to talk to someone. Someone who reserves judgment; a third party with no personal involvement in the situation." She met Allison's eyes levelly. "I'm here to help you, Allison. I'm not going to force you to talk to me about what happened. We can continue talking about Jane Austen until we're both blue in the face. I wouldn't mind, believe me. But if you decide to talk about what happened, that would be fine also. There is no pressure, whatsoever."

It finally dawned on Allison. "I have to meet with you in order to go back to work, don't I?"

Katherine slowly nodded her head. "Yes, you do. But it's not a death sentence. I'm here as an observer, making sure you're okay, and available to listen when you need to talk. Like I said, I'm not going to force you into anything."

Allison felt tears welling up in her eyes. She felt so helpless. Why couldn't everything go back to the way it was?

"For how long do I have to meet with you?" she asked quietly.

"For as long as I think necessary. Until I feel that you have benefited somehow from our discussions."

Allison nodded. "Okay. I understand." She looked at Dr. Wasnick. "I'll talk about it, but I want to go my own pace."

Dr. Wasnick nodded, knowing that she still had to gain a trust with Allison before she fully opened up. "Do you want to tell me how you feel? I read in your chart that you were given Ativan in the ER when you were first brought in, but have not required any other sedatives."

Allison looked out the window. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to make eye contact when she talked about this. "I was a mess, obviously. I couldn't stop crying. But now…now I have come to terms with it. It's a fact. And it's in the past. I'm probably still in shock; in all probability, it hasn't sunk in all the way. But I feel somehow more in control. I feel that my recognizing that it happened is helping me get over it quickly."

Katherine nodded slowly. She agreed with Allison; it hadn't sunk in all the way. This happened often with rape victims. After the initial shock of it all, they go into denial. They act like it hadn't happened. Her suspicions were definitely solidified when Allison wouldn't make eye contact when she was talking about it.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Allison closed her eyes, sighing. "What do you want to know?"

"You were obviously scared. What went through your mind?"

Allison kept her eyes closed, answering softly, "I thought I was going to die. I thought that if he didn't kill me, then the shame of it would. When he…when he left, when I got away, my first thought was to get out of there as fast I could. But once I was in the hospital, once everybody was around me, hearing me cry, seeing my face, knowing what had happened…," she whispered, her voice wavering, "I wanted to die. I felt like I was naked, and I couldn't cover myself up." She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I felt violated again. My private matters were open to all of those nurses and doctors; the nurses and doctors that I see everyday at work."

Dr. Wasnick listened intently. "Do you still feel the same way? Do you still feel violated when talking about it?"

Allison turned her head to the other doctor. "Yes," she answered simply. She shook her head. "I don't know how I cannot not feel that way."

Katherine contemplated this. "It's common to feel that way when discussing it at first. But it gets better with time." She let this sink in before going on. "Victims also sometimes feel it is their fault; that they somehow asked for this to happen to them. Do you feel this way at all?"

Allison was silent for a moment. "I know it wasn't my fault. But I still could have taken the necessary precautions. It would be naïve of me to ignore the fact that if I had waited for the security guard or if I had went up to see if Dr. Foreman could escort me to my car, then this wouldn't have happened." She looked out the window. "But I believe it's useless to play 'what if.' I made an awful decision, and I paid for it."

Katherine shook her head. "You didn't make the decision to be assaulted, Allison. When we make decisions about where we are going to live, or what we're going to do with our lives, we can think on them for years. But when we make a decision that we would rather have a chicken salad sandwich instead of a hamburger for lunch, it takes a split second to make up our minds. Different decisions vary in importance and the ability to change our lives. If I decided to have the chicken salad sandwich, and then I contracted salmonella, would you believe that I made the decision to get sick?"

Allison shook her head. "You don't understand. I knew about all of those other attacks. I had read the memo that Dr. Cuddy had sent to all the departments. And yet, I still decided to walk to my car by myself. In that way, I have to find myself liable to a degree, because I knew the risks. And yet I acted against my instincts and common sense."

"Well, I could argue that I knew the risks of eating chicken. All kinds of things could happen. I could get sick or I could choke on it. Or I could eat it, satisfy my hunger and move on with my life." She paused, hoping that Allison understood what she was saying. "You had no idea that this would have happened. After all, what were the chances? You had walked to your car by yourself innumerable times in the past and nothing had happened before. You did not make the decision to get hurt, Allison. He did. You need to realize that. And as soon as you recognize that fact, the better you will feel. It was not your decision. It was his," she repeated with feeling. She studied Allison's face. "And yes, you had read that memo, and you had just found out about those attacks. But what if the memo hadn't been sent out until tomorrow? I truly believe, Allison, that you would have still walked to your car alone."

Allison closed her eyes, feeling tears sliding down her cheeks. Dr. Wasnick was right. Allison had told Chase that nobody was to blame, but she realized now she hadn't fully believed that. Until now. "Thank you," she whispered to the doctor. They were simple words, but the emotion and meaning they carried was potent.

Katherine smiled and stood up. "I'm only stating fact, Allison." She walked up to the bed and handed Allison a tissue. "I think that's enough for today. I'll be back to see you tomorrow before you go home, okay?"

Allison smiled and nodded. She watched the psychiatrist walk out of her room, closing her door quietly. She turned to her left side, and closed her eyes. She was exhausted. She felt herself falling asleep, reveling in the peacefulness of it.

********************************************************

House checked the clock. It was 7 in the evening. He stood up from his chair, and limped into the department where Chase remained. House had made him take over all of the paperwork, and it seemed that he was staying late tonight, finishing it up. He limped over to the coffee machine, feeling a perverse pleasure that he had found a way to silently punish Chase. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and made a face when he took a sip. It was awful. No doubt it had been there since that morning. He took another swig, forcing it down his throat.

Chase looked up from his chair and smiled. He knew that the coffee was hours old, and he felt a ridiculous amount of satisfaction knowing that House was going to have to force himself to drink it, since he himself didn't make coffee. His smile sobered, remembering who usually made the coffee, and he turned back to his work. "Staying late tonight, Dr. House?"

House eyed Chase as he placed his coffee cup in the sink. "Still doing paperwork, Prince Harry?"

Chase threw down his pen and rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated. "I'm Australian, okay? It's a whole different continent."

House smiled smugly at him. "Oh, but don't you still bow down to the queen?" and he was back in his office, packing his backpack for the ride home. As he walked out of the office and into the hallway, his heartbeat quickened. He was going to go see Allison before he went home. He went to the elevator and got on, pushing the appropriate button for Allison's floor. As he rode up, he wondered what he would say to her. Wondered how she was doing.

He exited the elevators once the doors opened, and made his way to Allison's room. He knocked on the closed door, walking in at her questioning, "Yes?"

He limped into the room slowly, taking in several details at once. Allison had been watching TV, but had turned it off once he had walked in. There were three vases of flowers on one bedside table, all three pink roses. Apparently the gift shop in the hospital had no idea what the word variety meant. And lastly, he took an assessment of Allison. She looked good, considering.

He paused for a moment. He felt incredibly uncomfortable, standing in there, with not a thought as to what he should say.

Allison took pity on him. "I'm surprised you're still here. You usually don't stay after 5, or 6 at the latest."

House slowly nodded, making his way to the chair at her bedside. "I had to finish up a few things." Sitting down, he continued, "Something about saving a patient's life, or some such nonsense. Apparently some hold that in high regard here." He shrugged. "I thought I'd see how you're doing before heading home. The L Word is on tonight, so you understand why I can't stay too late." He stopped, and mentally kicked himself. Why was he making careless jokes like this, while he should be asking how she was doing?

Allison smiled and nodded. "That I totally understand."

Suddenly, her smile wavered. She noted his body language, and realized he was beyond uncomfortable. He sat at the very edge of the chair, as if waiting for an excuse to jump up and run out of the room, limp be damned. He had his arms folded across his chest, his cane resting against his leg. She looked down at her hands in her lap, realizing what was wrong. He would never treat her the same after this. All he would do from now on is walk on eggshells, treating her like fine china, waiting for her to crack at any moment.

House noticed that she had suddenly become subdued, and willed himself to say something to break the silence. He nodded at the flowers. "Nice roses. I saw some earlier in the gift shop." She made no reply. He searched his mind frantically, trying to think of something else. "How did you like the menu for today? I didn't care for the ravioli; it reminded me far too well of school lunches. But the Caesar salad was tolerable if you put extra dressing on it."

Allison took a deep breath and met his eyes. "House, please stop." At his surprised look, she continued. "I know what you're trying to do. I understand that you're trying to put me at ease. I appreciate it. But I'm fine. You don't have to treat me any differently than you have before. It's important to me that you don't treat me any differently. Because I am fine," she repeated.

House let out a breath, not realizing he had been holding it. He nodded slowly. "I understand," he said. He looked down at his hands, twirling his cane. He looked back up at Allison and added, "But I really did want to know what you thought about the ravioli."

She smiled, appreciating his attempt at levity. "It was awful. The same kind of awful it has been for the past three years."

House smiled back, and settled into his chair. If she truly wanted him to treat her normally, then he was going to do just that. "Did you talk to the police?"

Allison nodded, smoothing the blanket over her legs. "Yes, I talked to them. I guess they caught what happened on a security camera, so that's good." She paused, wondering if she should tell him about the birthmark, and her worry that she wasn't remembering everything. "I had noticed a café au lait birthmark on his hand. I'm hoping that will help them narrow down any suspects."

House nodded. "I'm sure it will."

Allison looked up at him then, her brow furrowed with worry. "I'm afraid I'm not remembering everything. When I was talking to the detectives earlier, all of these details kept coming back to me; things I hadn't even realized happened until I was talking to the police." She brought up her hand, smoothing her hair back absently from her forehead. "I can't stop thinking that maybe I'm not remembering something significant, something that will help their investigation."

House's eyes followed her hand, noting her torn and ravaged nails. His eyes met hers once again. "That's normal. During trauma, the brain doesn't immediately register everything, but the subconscious does. It usually comes back after time."

She looked down at her lap again, biting her lip. House leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He finally asked the question he had wanted to ask since he came in here. "How are you, Allison?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Allison knew he wasn't only asking about how she felt physically. "I'm doing better than I was earlier," she said quietly. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, willing her fatigue to go away. "I've already said this a few times earlier, but I would rather be home, in my apartment, than here." She paused, and looked up at House. "When can I return to work?"

House met her eyes, caught off guard by the question, and then shook his head. "I don't know. I think it would be best to wait until your bruises fade." He paused, and then added with meaning, "All of your bruises."

Allison continued to meet his gaze. She wanted to return to work. She wanted life to go back to normal. There was no reason why she should have to sit at home, doing nothing, while she could be productive at work.

"I could perform all of the lab work. I wouldn't have to meet with any of the patients."

House rubbed his chin with his hand, considering his words carefully. "I can't let you return to work until I know you're better. What if you made a mistake?"

Allison shifted in the bed, frustrated. "I'd be in the lab. You can perform random QA tests if you want to double check my work." She looked at House. "I need for everything to be back to normal. I don't want to stay home, alone with my thoughts," she stated.

House knew that it must have taken a lot for her to confess this last part. Hell, he would feel the same way. Look at how he had dealt with his leg. He had been back at work ASAP. And even on bad days, he would rather be at work than at home, feeling sorry for himself.

"Let me talk to Cuddy," he conceded. "But I'm not making any promises."

Allison nodded, knowing this was as much as House would promise. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

House accepted her thanks with a nod of his head. "And when you do come back, you have coffee duty again. No excuses."

Allison smiled. "Deal."

House let his gaze linger on her face, noting how tired she looked. It was time for him to go so that she could sleep. He would prefer to stay with her, talking with her. But he had to remind himself that she was still recovering. He stood up. "Well, Bette is calling my name. Apparently she and Tina get in a big fight tonight." He bent over and retrieved his bag from the floor. "And I _love_ it when they fight. Their making up makes it so worth it."

Allison smiled and rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't want you to miss that."

House limped over to the bed. He wanted to talk to her about the arrangements of staying with her the next night, but decided against it. Tomorrow would be a better time to discuss that. He dug his hand in his bag, and retrieved a little pink teddy bear from it, and placed it on Allison's lap. "I've already named it Paris Hilton, but I'm sure Paris wouldn't mind a different name as long as it wasn't sappy like Beary or Poo."

Allison picked up the bear. "Thank you," she said with genuine feeling. She looked at the bear for a moment, and smiled. "I think I'll name her Cherry."

House sighed dramatically. "Of course, go with something obvious and overly feminine."

Allison looked up at him, feigning hurt. "Well, what's up with Paris Hilton?"

House looked at her incredulously, and then explained to her in a voice he reserved for small children. "Isn't it obvious? Because it's a cheap plaything."

Allison stared up at him, and then shook her head. "You're a pig," she said, though she was smiling.

House swung his bag across his shoulder and nodded. "I know." He looked down at her. "I'll be back tomorrow morning before they release you. Do you need a ride home?"

Allison gave a rueful laugh. "I have no idea. I hope my car is still in the parking lot. I didn't think to ask the police if it was towed away."

"I'll look into it. I'll let you know tomorrow." He stood there for a minute, studying her, and then forced himself to make his way to the door. "Sleep well," he said, and he was gone.

Allison sat in silence for a moment. "You too," she whispered.


End file.
